Cradle to Grave by Eleanor Kuhns Page B

marksman as well.”
    â€œMy father had no son,” Miss Pike said, brushing away the compliment with one gloved hand. “So I enjoyed the benefits of his complete attention.”
    â€œHave you sisters?” Rees asked, returning his greatcoat to the hook.
    â€œNo. My dear Mama passed on soon after my birth and my father has not remarried.”
    Rees cast a glance of cynical understanding at Vermette. Miss Pike, and her husband, would likely inherit a sizable estate.
    Miss Pike rose to her feet. “Please call on me as soon as you’re able, Mrs. Rees,” she said. “I hope we shall become great friends.” She stretched out a hand. Lydia took it but dropped it almost immediately.
    â€œOf course,” she said with insincere politeness. Concealing his surprise at Lydia’s abruptness, Rees shook hands with Reverend Vermette and saw them out the door.
    â€œAre you ready?” Rees asked his wife.
    â€œIn a minute.” Lydia knelt beside Jerusha. “Let me show you how.” She twisted the yarn from the spindle between her fingers until it formed a long uniform strand. “Feel this. Do you see how it is?” Placing her hand over the child’s, she guided Jerusha’s fingers gently over the yarn. “Now, press the treadle with your foot. Yes, like that. The roving comes puffy into your hand. Your fingers smooth it and twist it into yarn.”
    Rees peered into the bedroom. Joseph, snoring faintly, turned over in the cradle. It was already too small for him. In an attempt to tidy the room, Maggie had lined the whiskey jugs up against the wall. But there were a lot of them, and Rees would wager most were empty. The pity he’d felt for her just the moment before shifted again to contempt. When he withdrew he left the door open slightly. The air inside the bedroom smelled fusty and stale, heavy with the sharp sweet pungency of the alcohol.
    Lydia stood up when he reentered the room and reached for her cloak.
    â€œMouse didn’t come by yesterday, did she?” Rees asked Jerusha. She shook her head.
    â€œOr last night?” Lydia added. Jerusha shook her head again.
    â€œWas she supposed to?” she asked. “I wish she would. She was kind to us.”
    â€œNo, she wasn’t supposed to,” Lydia said. “We were just wondering.” The look she shot at Rees accused them both of unjust suspicions.
    â€œIf the selectmen warn you out of Dover Springs,” Rees said to Jerusha, “remember you can always go to Mouse and the Shakers.” He stared into Jerusha’s face until she nodded. “Now we will say good-bye.”
    â€œWill you visit us again?” Jerusha asked.
    â€œOf course,” Lydia said, hugging each one in turn.
    Rees put on his coat and wrapped Lydia in her cloak. They returned to the buggy in silence.
    In unspoken agreement, they drove to Mount Unity. “To take our leave of Mouse,” Lydia said. Rees nodded, ashamed of his suspicions. And Mouse, when she came out of the kitchen to speak with them, seemed composed. But although she wished Lydia and Rees farewell and safe journey and promised to write, Rees felt a certain reserve in Mouse’s manner. He didn’t think her coolness was due to the presence of a Sister standing a short distance away, either. After those few short sentences, Mouse turned abruptly and disappeared into the kitchen once again. Lydia stared after her in dismay and then turned to Rees with an unhappy frown.
    â€œI suppose Mouse is still angry at us,” he said as he drew her back to the buggy.
    â€œI hate to leave it like this,” Lydia said with a sigh, looking back over her shoulder. But the door to the kitchen was firmly shut.
    â€œThere’s nothing further we can do,” Rees said. He glanced at his wife. Her mouth was drawn closed and her forehead wrinkled. He drew her to him and kissed her cheek. “Don’t worry,” he said.